


the very first words

by rumandraisins



Series: to a lifelong love letter [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aliens, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Multi, No but really, Oisuga Weekend, Post-Apocalypse, fluff?, minor character injury, this gets real soft real fast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 15:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14476095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumandraisins/pseuds/rumandraisins
Summary: They had all laughed at him when he told them to beware of the aliens.But nobody can laugh now.Not if they wanted to survive.A Quiet Place AUOiSuga Weekend Day 3:Patterns| Post Apocalypse |Free Prompt





	the very first words

Even after everything, the first thing Tooru still looks for when they come across shopping centers like this one is the sports store. 

It wasn’t all the long ago that volleyball had been his main purpose in life, when the rush of play on the court had been his journey and his destination, when winning or losing a match might as well have been the difference between life and death. 

He finds himself pulled towards it, picking his way through the rubble and shards of broken storefront glasses slowly. Carefully. Quietly. 

He doesn’t wear shoes because they make his footsteps too loud and in this new world they’re living in, the difference between life or death is as easy as the sound of one footstep. He wears socks, though, so he doesn’t have to walk the vast, empty spaces of his hometown barefoot but also because they’re not really sure if the slap of skin against concrete is a safe kind of sound or a deadly one, and it’s not really a risk they’re willing to take just to be sure.

He can feel Iwa-chan’s eyes on him as he goes, tracking his progress with sharp, disapproving eyes. A whole lifetime ago, Iwa-chan would have scolded him for doing useless, unnecessary things but now, he just lets him be. 

Tooru smiles wistfully. Look at that. He can find good things about their situation, after all. 

The sports store is a mess of broken, overturned shelves and equipment. There’s a myriad of slashes running through nearly all the posters on its walls, deep enough to cut through the material underneath. And right by Tooru’s feet, held in place by the mangled pieces of a tennis racket, there’s a single, torn piece of newspaper. 

Tooru can still make out parts of the headline. 

_-lien Invas-_

Three months ago, meteors fell from the sky. 

Tooru had watched them with his friends, had spouted off statistics, the chances that what everyone else thought were just space rocks might actually be alien spaceships come to examine the earth and how efficient the government is in covering their tracks to keep the population clueless and naive.

Makki and Mattsun had laughed. 

That’s the most ironic thing is that they had all laughed at him when he told them to beware of the aliens. But even then, Tooru had been so sure. Tooru had held his ground. Tooru had promised them all that one day, they would come for him, and _he_ would be the one laughing in the end.

But nobody can laugh now.

Not if they wanted to survive. 

It’s the first time in his life that Tooru wishes he’d never been right.

A flash of yellow from within the store catches his eyes. His hand flies to his mouth to keep his gasp inside as he cautiously picks his way to... a volleyball. 

It’s a _volleyball._

A little dusty but somehow still intact, like a well-preserved relic of Tooru’s old life. 

They don’t need it, he knows. It’s not going to feed them, clothe them, protect them. It’s a liability. An inflatable ball that won’t be able to stay still, an inanimate object that doesn’t have the ability to be careful of its surroundings, to be aware of how it moves, the sounds it will make. If it falls to the ground even once, it will bring the monsters to them and this time there’s no question about it. 

But what kind of volleyball players were they, if they couldn’t keep the ball from falling to the ground?

He picks it up. Smooths his hand over the familiar shape of it, feeling like himself for the first time since his wishes were granted in the worst way possible. Suddenly, he can hear the squeak of players on the court again, of the crowd cheering, his teammates calling his name, in place of this endless hush, as if everything was holding its breath - a constant reminder that Tooru is no longer living in a world, but a large, desolate tomb. 

Iwa-chan looks up when he makes his way out of the store, gaze alighting on the ball on his hands. 

He tenses. 

And Tooru _knows_ Iwa-chan, should have known what that expression really meant, but lost as he is in the memories of the life he can no longer have, it’s not so hard to see that look as something else entirely. As Iwa-chan looking at him from across a whole court, demanding without speaking, toss to me, the steady assurance of an ace that matched Tooru’s tempo so perfectly, someone who can put the ball through and break through walls, for Tooru, for his team, for victory. 

The distance between them, Tooru estimates, is just about the same.

Instinct takes over.

He doesn’t think. 

He lets the ball fly, brings his hands up, fingers poised-

And _sets._

Iwa-chan’s face is a mask of horror.

It’s in that moment that Tooru’s memories come crashing down. 

Iwa-chan is frozen where he stands, the ball still arching between them, and it’s the perfect toss, if Tooru’s goal had been to tear right through an opponent’s defense. 

That is no longer Tooru’s goal.

Tooru draws in a breath but he can’t speak, can’t shout, can’t even say _I’m sorry._

The ball starts to fall.

And in that split second it takes Tooru to take a single step forward, Iwa-chan tilts his face to the sky as he reaches up and catches the ball. 

Tooru could have collapsed in sheer relief.

He smiles at Iwa-chan apologetically, and the brute – he really can’t help it, he was born violent and clumsy – raises a fist threateningly, hugging the volleyball to his chest and backing up a few steps to regain his balance. 

If this was their old life, it would have been the end of that. 

In any other life, it would have been fine.

But they’re standing on a landscape of rubble and twisted metal and shattered glass, with no barrier against the ground but two layers of flimsy socks, good enough for muffling sounds, but not good enough for anything else.

Tooru doesn’t see that jagged piece of metal lying on the ground.

Neither does Iwa-chan. 

The only sign he gets that something is terribly wrong is when Iwa-chan’s face starts to contort and his body folds in on itself and it’s then that Tooru _sees._

The metal, the blood, the immense strain in Iwa-chan’s face as he fights to keep quiet through the pain, and the exact moment when his movements jostle the injury and Iwa-chan loses the battle.

He starts to open his mouth.

Iwa-chan is Tooru’s best friend. 

He’s been Tooru’s best friend since they were practically babies, when Tooru had probably charmed the pants off of their mothers and every neighborhood lady while Iwa-chan had sulked and began the long, arduous process of turning into a troll. They trust each other more than anything. They know each other more than anyone. They made promises to each other, when they were children, and then everyday since - that Tooru was going to be his setter and he was going to be Tooru’s ace, and together they would take on the world. 

He can do it, he thinks. Run to his best friend and keep him from screaming out his pain. Keep him quiet and keep both of them alive, help Iwa-chan through his injury in the safest way he can, because this is all his fault in the first place. He’s an athlete. He can make it. He has a superb reaction time and immaculate reflexes, achieved through blood and sweat and training over and over. He might not have anticipated _this_ particular moment ever happening but Tooru is fast. Tooru is _good._

Tooru has a voice inside his head – a small voice, but a voice all the same – warning him, whispering to him precisely what’s going to happen _if you fail._

_You’ll die, too._

And Tooru, Iwa-chan’s tower, his captain, his best friend-

Tooru hesitates.

He sees what will happen next play out in front of him in snapshots. Iwa-chan’s scream. The _seconds_ it will take for the creatures to come, blind but fast and attracted to sound. The shape of them looming over his best friend’s body, a real _alien,_ Tooru’s dream come true, as they tear apart all Tooru has left in this world. 

And throughout it all, Tooru will watch and Tooru will cry even when he doesn’t have any right, because Iwa-chan hadn’t been mistaken, after all - Tooru is a shitty, selfish person and he will one day be the death of him. 

Tooru’s muscles unclench, heart pounding at the realization, and he takes a step forward-

But then.

A boy comes soundlessly, on light, quick feet, rushing towards Iwa-chan and yanking him away from the rubble, bringing a cloth-covered hand up to cover Iwa-chan’s mouth, and another to secure the ball against Iwa-chan’s chest. For a moment, they stand there, Iwa-chan’s back to this boy’s chest as he convulses, his eyes scrunched shut, his hands gripping the other boy’s arms so tightly, it seems as if he might break them. 

And then slowly, the boy begins to lower them both to the ground, taking the pressure off of Iwa-chan’s injured foot, his hold loosening, although not falling away entirely.

And throughout the entire ordeal, none of them make a single sound. 

A second figure walks into Tooru’s line of vision – a girl this time, moving in a much slower pace. She’s barefoot like the boy, and her every step is deliberate and careful, stepping on the ground heel-first and then rolling her foot slowly towards her toes until it made complete quiet contact with the ground. She glances at him, and her sharp grey gaze gives Tooru the energy to cross the distance between him and his still-shaking best friend and drop to the ground by his bloody foot.

It also flips the switch in his mind that allows him to recognize the faces he sees as familiar. 

The girl - Karasuno’s manager.

And the boy, unsmiling and tense but unmistakable with that shock of silvery hair - Karasuno’s vice captain, number two, Tobio-chan’s spare.

Tooru gets a brief flicker of irritation, before Karasuno’s manager kneels before him, showing Iwa-chan the bandages in her hand, as well as a needle and thread gesturing to Iwa-chan’s foot urgently. 

Despite the pain, Iwa-chan’s eyes burn fierce. He nods once and Karasuno’s manager gestures once again, this time to Tooru. She swipes her hand across her cheeks right below her glasses. It takes Tooru a second to understand and he wipes off his tears immediately, a flash of shame burning in his gut for letting these veritable strangers see him weak in that way. But just a flash. He pushes it away as quick as it comes because it’s not about him at this moment.

He draws closer to what measly medical equipment they have and sets trembling fingers on top of the bandages.

Karasuno’s manager fixes him with a brief assessing glare, and then slowly, as gently and quietly as they can, they begin to work.

It’s a long process that lasts the entire afternoon. The effort it took to keep quiet throughout it all saps at Iwa-chan’s strength, Tooru can tell, but somehow his will holds out. Mr. Refreshing runs soothing hands down Iwa-chan’s arm, lets Iwa-chan squeeze his wrists to death and even though Tooru can see in his face just how much it hurts him, he doesn’t make Iwa-chan let go even once.

In the end, they all creep into a clothing store, and they make Iwa-chan a mattress made of shirts so he can sleep. In the end, they’re all still miraculously alive and Tooru sits at the open doorway, watching the sun set, trying to wipe off Iwa-chan’s blood in his hands with another spare shirt. 

It doesn’t totally come off and Tooru thinks, that’s fair.

It’s just his due that he’ll have to forever live with the reminder that he almost let his best friend die.

Mr. Refreshing settles next to him. He walks in the same strange but quiet way that Karasuno’s manager does, heel to toe, outer edge down first. Tooru doesn’t even register him completely until he’s taken up all of this extra space by Tooru’s side.

He glares at the silver-haired boy scathingly before he mistakenly decides that Tooru is plagued by those pesky little things called feelings. Maybe their groups have somehow been merged for the night, but that doesn’t mean Tooru is open to accepting things like pity. 

But Mr. Refreshing only offers him another clean cloth, gently prying the soiled one from his tense grip. And then he settles his chin on his knees and watches the sunset, too. 

On his arms, bruises the shape of hands are beginning to form.

Iwa-chan’s hands.

Tooru’s eyes fall to the cloth in his hands and he wonders. 

Mr. Refreshing didn’t have to help. Sure, if Iwa-chan had screamed, the aliens would have come but if he and his manager hid, if they didn’t make a sound, if they just stayed far away or run the other direction, they wouldn’t have been a target at all. 

Instead, he chose to run towards the threat and she chose to share their supplies and they both chose to risk themselves for rivals they barely even knew. 

Tooru had been annoyed when he figured out who they were. Why them? Of all people who could have come to help, why did it have to be _Karasuno?_ Why, when he was still stinging from the pain of their defeat? Why, when they have cut off his high school volleyball career before he even had a chance to achieve his own goal since _middle school?_

If Tooru had been in their place, he didn’t think he could have made the same choice.

But they did. 

They saved his best friend’s life and Tooru can’t even say thank you.

He doesn’t realize he’s opened the door to the emotions that he’d pushed away while they were patching up Iwa-chan’s foot until Mr. Refreshing plucks the cloth from his hands and gently wipes away his tears with the same direct, straightforward gaze he’d used when he’d first offered Tooru the cloth.

A sob gets caught in Tooru’s throat, and he covers his mouth anxiously to prevent himself from doing something devastating.

Mr. Refreshing takes one long look at him and then smiles apologetically.

Tooru only has a second to wonder why before he gets crushed into the other boy’s chest with surprising force. His eyes widen as he looks up at the other boy who only brings his index finger to his mouth in explanation. 

Tooru blinks. He takes in Mr. Refreshing’s patient gaze, and then drops his eyes back at the sturdy chest presented right in front of him and abruptly-

He understands. 

He’s being given a safe place to cry.

And it’s this kindness, on top of everything else they’ve already done, that completely breaks all of Tooru’s walls.

He clutches the other boy’s shirt and lets it go, everything he’s buried from the moment he hesitated and froze, from the moment he could have been watching his best friend die, if things have been different. His selfishness and his how much he hates himself for it, how much he wishes none of this had happened in the first place. How he’d wanted _aliens_ and now that they’re here, he wonders how he’d ever loved them at all. 

He still swallows most of his sobs, though, just so he can maintain the illusion that he didn’t really need this gesture, that he’d just deigned to indulge the Karasuno vice captain’s saint complex. That he could have cried safely on his own, that he is in control the entire time, that he didn’t even need to cry in the first place, he was just doing this stupid boy a favor because he’s obviously one of those nurturing types that needed to take care of something to find fulfillment in life or some other such nonsense.

Even though he really does need it. 

And even though they both know it. 

Tooru feels gentle hands untangling the knots on his hair, careful and soothing and light. He exhales at the feel of them, the simple comfort, and when he finally looks up, the other boy’s eyes still showed nothing remotely resembling pity or judgement or even mockery. 

He doesn’t even treat Tooru like he’s fragile, wasting no time in curling one hand into a fist and driving it up towards his jaw. It’s not a strong punch by any definition, but it’s not a soft one, either. It’s solid without being harmful, hard enough to jolt him out of his melancholy thoughts, but not enough to bruise or even linger.

And then, this strange boy grins without restraint, bright and free, untouched by all the devastation surrounding them both.

Tooru blinks.

He gets a vague recollection of watching him do this to his teammates on the other side of the net, the energy that brought about Tooru’s nickname for him. 

Now that he’s here in front of Tooru, focusing on him that same unfettered energy, beyond the shadow of Tobio-chan’s skill, Tooru sees him for what he is. Not as a sum of his inefficiencies as a setter – because that was the truth, he stood nowhere near Tooru’s level of competency, he was obvious and predictable, more of a buzzing fly than an actual pest – but as who he truly was, Karasuno’s emotional backbone. This was the player that stoked the dying embers of Karasuno’s spirit when Tooru thought they’ve finally been broken, the mentor that helped Tobio-chan become not only a genius setter but a _good_ one, the one member of the team who lost his position as a starter to a junior but did not let that break him, who bore the shame and still stood tall as one of the Karasuno Boys Volleyball Team’s biggest pillars. 

It seems he’s as unbreakable now as he had been before. 

And maybe.

Maybe Tooru can respect that. 

Grudgingly.

Tooru searches his mind, trying to find a snide enough way to express his gratitude without looking like an idiot - for Iwa-chan, for this - but Mr. Refreshing gives him a thumbs up like he knows, understanding without words.

Tooru raises his brow and turns his head away haughtily before this guy gets any ideas.

Tooru might not hate him.

But he doesn’t like him, either.

  


* * *

  


When Iwa-chan wakes up, Tooru kneels in front of him and presses his forehead to the floor in deep apology.

Iwa-chan’s punch is considerably stronger than Mr. Refreshing’s, even holding back as he is to keep from making a sound. 

_Stupid,_ Iwa-chan mouths.

He doesn’t push Tooru away though, lets him cry all over him and fuss about him, rolling his eyes and scowling, unable to let go of his grumpy self even after such a life altering event as a predatory alien invasion and Tooru is _so happy_ that he is still alive.

Mr. Refreshing and his manager are conspicuously absent, only because they return later that day with no visible reason for their convenient disappearance.

Tooru doesn’t make any kind of gesture to say thank you.

And Mr. Refreshing doesn’t mention it.

  


* * *

  


Iwa-chan’s foot needs to heal so he and Tooru remain where they are.

And so do the two Karasuno team members. 

There’s no discussion about it because they can’t have one and no matter how many times Tooru tries to pantomime _it’s okay, you can go, don’t let us keep you from wherever you’re going_ \- a much more civil version of _I don’t like that you’re here, you know,_ which he figures he owes them after all their help - Mr. Refreshing stays stubbornly immovable and Manager-chan just looks constantly unimpressed by his acting skills. 

Which.

Totally uncalled for, Tooru has amazing acting skills. 

So after several attempts of unsuccessfully trying to chase them off, and a whole afternoon of this _look_ from Iwa-chan that basically says _you can stand to be a little more grateful,_ Tooru finally caves and joins them in their little scavenging expedition. 

Mr. Refreshing keeps on performing complicated series of signals that Tooru doesn’t understand. He turns to Manager-chan, who had been his travelling companion all this time and the obvious person in their ragtag trio who should know better, but she merely purses her lips with the same unimpressed look she’d given Tooru.

Mr. Refreshing makes a face as if despairing their total lack of understanding and Manager-chan turns away. Tooru sees her smiling, though, and he wonders how much of that display was just to lighten up the mood. 

That day Tooru learns that the emotional backbone pillar of Karasuno, Mr. Refreshing, is a dork to the highest degree and considering the many times he’d heard that word in reference to himself, it’d be a little hypocritical of Tooru to hate on him because of that.

He also learns that the other boy is actually a little shit – which Tooru _can_ hate him for – when he tries to impart upon Tooru his silly, complicated system of communication, only to lapse into signals that look... rather suggestive if Tooru squinted and used his imagination. 

And then came a signal that did not need any imagination whatsoever.

His mouth drops open because he can’t process how that innuendo came from that _face,_ so innocent and unassuming, pure and untainted by evil like every single player in Karasuno, with eyes like a doe and that easy smile-

The smile turns wicked at Tooru’s shock and when Mr. Refreshing peers into Tooru’s eyes it’s obvious that he thinks Tooru has no moral ground to stand on if he understood what that meant in the first place. 

He waggles his finger in front of him and shakes his head, like _Tooru_ was the one being a bad boy. 

This little...

Tooru sticks out his tongue and offers up the very clear, very uncomplicated signal for _fuck you_ and Mr. Refreshing’s eyes dance with mirth.

The third thing Tooru learns that day – that eyes can laugh just as loudly as mouths can, too.

  


* * *

  


They’re eating one day when Mr. Refreshing settles down grouchily in front of him and holds up a finger.

Tooru raises an eyebrow but otherwise keeps his focus on watching Iwa-chan watch Manager-chan because it’s weird for some reason. 

Mr. Refreshing is undeterred by this and snatches up Tooru’s hand so he can furiously trace something on his palm. Tooru doesn’t really pay attention, so immersed is he in his spying, so after the other boy is done and starts looking at him expectantly, Tooru turns to look at the palm of his hand and goes to try to swallow what’s been written there even though he doesn’t understand the need for it. 

His hand gets pulled back down and Mr. Refreshing, now looking annoyed as well as grouchy, brings his finger back up again and drops it to the center of Tooru’s palm none too gently. 

Tooru winces and glares. 

He gets ignored as a character gets traced onto it again, meticulously, like he didn’t want Tooru to be mistaken. It takes a few tries before Tooru deciphers it.

 _Suga._

Tooru mouths the word and the other boy beams and points to himself, telling Tooru in no uncertain terms that _he_ is Suga and also that he knows Tooru has been referring to him by his nickname in his head all this time. 

Tooru wants to shrug, whatever, he can’t tell Tooru what to do, but at the same time, Suga is much shorter than Mr. Refreshing and anyway, the name was getting a little too old for Tooru’s taste.

Not that it meant Tooru will just simply let him get his way.

He points to the other boy and then grabs _his_ palm, quickly writing his name on it and adding something else that he knows will eat at the Karasuno vice captain to the point of aggravation.

_Suga-chan._

Suga-chan doesn’t _punch_ him, exactly. It’s more of a clenched fist pressed into his side that suddenly and unexpectedly drives itself forward towards his _ribs._ It’s soundless but effective. Tooru still can’t decide whether it’s better or worse than an actual punch because he actually has to actively try to prevent himself from whining at the pain. 

He glares at Suga-chan and then pays him back in kind. The victory lasts for about a second before Suga-chan retaliates and it quickly turns into this heated but quiet battle that ends when Manager-chan presses each of her index fingers into the center of their respective foreheads and drives _them_ forward.

Manager-chan has really sharp fingernails. 

He and Suga-chan simultaneously try to soothe the sting with their hands and Manager-chan exchanges what looks like a speaking glance with Iwa-chan and then they both turn twin disapproving glares on Tooru and Suga-chan both, like they think they’re _children._

Tooru gets annoyed – he is _not_ a child – for as long as it takes him to try and commiserate with his other demoted companion who, as it turns out, is taking it with surprisingly good humor.

He grins at Tooru from beneath his fingers, eyes dancing with impish glee and. 

Well, he guesses it’s a little bit funny.

Like Iwa-chan and Manager-chan think they’re the parents or something.

He thinks of what Iwa-chan’s face would look like if Tooru still had the chance to call him _daddy_ and he almost forgets himself and bursts out laughing. 

Almost.

But even unheard, that novel bit of happiness still buoys him for the rest of the day.

  


* * *

  


That night, while Manager-chan is inspecting Iwa-chan’s injury, it’s Tooru that settles down grouchily in front of Suga-chan and holds up a finger.

Suga-chan cocks his head to the side like a baby bird. 

Tooru turns to their respective friends, points at each of them once and turns back to Suga-chan with a questioning gaze that he hopes the other boy can understand. This has been bugging him all day and he needs an answer now or he will crawl out of his own skin.

Suga-chan doesn’t even ask him to elaborate. He smiles at Tooru, somewhat crookedly. It almost looks like he’s amused that it took Tooru so long to notice or that he even had to ask. And then, he deliberately brings both hands together to form a shape that looks a little lopsided but for some strange reason, strongly resembles-

Is that a _heart?_

Tooru lets his mouth drop as he churns the foreign concept in his head. 

Iwa-chan in love? 

But he’s a brute. 

He probably doesn’t even know the first thing about romance or courtship, or even just how to process this kind of emotion in general. He’s dense. A tsundere. A total idiot. Does he even know how to ask a girl out or like, be _seductive_ without looking like he’s three seconds away from self-combusting because of feelings? 

It’s not possible. 

And yet.

Tooru watches the way they move around each other, the way they react to each other, the way they _look_ at each other. 

He knows Iwa-chan better than anyone so he can’t deny the truth of what he sees, even when his stomach drops at the thought of what that could mean for _him._

But then.

He shakes his head because he still remembers the day he’d almost lost everything because he was selfish. 

He can’t be like that anymore.

He has to process this another way.

...So what if Iwa-chan wanted to fall in love and be disgusting? Tooru isn’t going to get erased from his life even then, right? They’ve been together since they were kids and they even survived an alien invasion together. They’re still surviving. Their bond is still still going strong and it’s not going to go away any time soon. 

Manager-chan would just have to accept that Iwa-chan and Tooru are a package deal. That Tooru will always be that unpleasant third wheel in their relationship so it’s either she’ll learn how to deal or there won’t be a deal at all. 

It’s okay.

He can let Iwa-chan be happy.

That doesn’t mean he can’t tease him about, though, because whatever else he may be, Iwa-chan is still a dense idiot.

He plops carefully beside his best friend once they’re all settling down to sleep, Manager-chan wandering towards the entrance of the store for the first watch of the night. He smiles as innocently as he can, pointing at Iwa-chan, then making a heart and then gesturing to Manager-chan’s general direction. 

If this was any other world, Iwa-chan would sputter and rage about how Tooru is the shittiest person in existence, but now he just turns red. 

So Tooru keeps on doing his best to be as annoying as possible, pulling out all the exaggerated kissy faces and winky faces in his arsenal, which makes Iwa-chan look progressively more and more grumpy until Suga-chan slides beside Tooru smoothly, staring Iwa-chan down with narrow eyes.

Iwa-chan’s focus slides to him, and for a moment, they just stand there looking at each other.

Tooru is about to process this inexcusable act of exclusion and maltreatment when Suga-chan places one hand on his hip, the other hand pointing his index and middle fingers to his eyes and then slowly to Iwa-chan’s. 

_I’m watching you._

And then he draws a line across his throat. 

It’s almost funny. 

Suga-chan is only about half Iwa-chan’s size. Literally. Like if you put two of Suga-chan’s arms together, then they would make up the entire bulk of one Iwa-chan arm. If it comes down to a head to head, Iwa-chan can probably snap him into two like a toothpick. Suga-chan has seriously got a whole lot of nerve to be sitting here threatening Iwa-chan like this, Tooru has to give him that. 

But somehow, even considering the massive difference in their muscle ratio, Iwa-chan looks sufficiently cowed by the threat, returning Suga-chan’s gaze with solemn, serious eyes, as if he’s trying to convey the purity of his intentions through a staredown alone.

Must be love, is Tooru’s first thought.

His second - it makes them both look constipated. 

Tooru turns away, biting his lips hard to keep his laughter to himself but his shaking shoulders give him away.

He gets pseudo-punched twice, by two different fists and they hurt just as much as the other does, but it was _so_ worth it.

  


* * *

  


The next day, Suga-chan blocks his path to the inside of the store when they return from a scavenging trip and when Tooru peers over his shoulder to see why, he finds Iwa-chan and Manager-chan curled up together in their little nest of bargain store shirts.

Tooru exhales and smiles helplessly.

That was fast.

But it’s not like he hadn’t been expecting it in the first place.

He moves to tug Suga-chan back out so the new lovebirds can have a little bit of privacy and Tooru finds him smiling at their two friends a little wistfully. 

There’s something in the way he looks that strikes Tooru as strange. It’s fond, but also something else, something he can’t quite put his finger on until Suga-chan closes his eyes like he’s in pain and turns away.

Tooru blinks. 

He wonders if Suga-chan has feelings for Manager-chan. 

The answering _no_ from his brain is quick and resounding. 

Suga-chan’s never once showed that he has any interest on her in that way. And when he tried to give Iwa-chan his best estimation of a shovel talk, it wasn’t with the air of someone in love letting their object of affection go so she can be happy. More like a friend or even a parent warning a potential suitor with the dire consequences that resulted from said suitor hurting someone he deeply cared about. 

He thinks of Suga-chan’s crooked smile when he made a heart, the look on his face when he insinuated their friends might have found something beautiful in this new and terrible world. 

When the realization comes, it’s quick and slow all at once.

_He’s jealous of what they have._

Tooru turns around to watch his companion in the new light of this realization. What do you know, Karasuno’s perfect angel is capable of corrupted emotions, after all. 

Before, it would have filled him with a certain kind of vindication, _I knew this perfect little image was too good to be true,_ but now he just bumps his shoulder against the other’s gently. 

In solidarity.

Because.

_I am, too._

  


* * *

  


The tragedy of the bicycle starts out unassumingly, at first.

Tooru sees it and asks himself if bicycles were quiet enough to be useful. He doesn’t ride a bike to school so he’s not actually sure but there are gears on there and those little chains and those bell things that people ring as a substitute version of a honk, or something like that. He thinks, briefly, that maybe it could work if he oiled the gears but where is he even going to begin to find oil? It’s too much trouble than it’s worth. There’s so many ways it could go wrong, from having it fall over when they’re not watching to them stumbling all over it or brushing against the gears accidentally. 

Not a good idea. 

But it’s not like Tooru had been hoping for much from it in the first place, so it’s okay. 

He was about to move on when Suga-chan walks up to him with furrowed brows, obviously wondering what’s taking Tooru so long. He follows Tooru’s gaze to the abandoned bike, and then-

Later, Tooru will ask himself if there was any way he could have prevented it. He tells himself it’s not his fault, there was no way he could have known but even so. 

Even so, he should have just left the stupid bike alone, shouldn’t have wondered, should have just let the discovery pass him by. For some reason, he didn’t like what it had brought upon them. 

He didn’t like seeing Suga-chan in pain.

-Suga-chan goes pale.

Tooru can only tell because he’s watching him so closely. He sees the flush of exertion drain from Suga-chan’s cheeks, the way his body _locks,_ his breath hitching at the sight of it. He starts walking towards it, slowly, still in his weird heel-to-toe gait but it’s obvious that he’s no longer paying any attention to his surroundings. It’s like he’s transfixed, possessed, like he’s forgotten where they were and what their circumstances are and how dangerous not paying attention to even the smallest thing can be to them right now. 

He’s headed right for a spill of cans, flattened and mangled and made of hollow metal – a minefield of sound, a ticking bomb, a lit fuse just waiting for a victim to slaughter.

All it takes is one wayward kick.

This time, Tooru doesn’t hesitate.

He yanks Suga-chan back, not even gently because what the _fuck_ was he thinking, losing his mind over a goddamn _bike,_ like it was worth his _life,_ when it wasn’t even _close._

Suga-chan whirls toward him with wild, unfocused eyes, and Tooru draws back in shock. For a moment, they stand in a stalemate, Tooru taking in this new Suga-chan he’s never seen before and Suga-chan’s gaze darting about in a frenzy before it finally settles on Manager-chan, who has come to check on what’s happened to them both.

The sight of her drains the tension out of him and his entire body sags as a result, his arm going limp in Tooru’s own. He looks down and takes a deep breath before tugging himself out of Tooru’s grip and quietly making his way back to their temporary home with the kind of quiet that was not born out of the need to survive.

Manager-chan watches him go sorrowfully, hugging herself tightly as she turns to Tooru, and what lay beyond.

And maybe she’s been around him long enough to understand, or maybe it’s because the need to know _why_ is burning so savagely in Tooru’s gut, but he doesn’t even have to do anything before she starts trying to explain. 

She holds up one finger with one hand. The other is shaped into a circle. 

...Ten?

Tooru thinks, what does that have to do with anythi-

And then it dawns on him.

 _Number_ ten.

Karasuno’s number _ten._

The other half of Tobio-chan’s miraculous quicks.

Chibi-chan.

  


* * *

  


Suga-chan is seated at the entrance of the store when he finds him. He’s drawn his legs close to his chest so he can rest his chin on top of knees. He’s staring blankly at probably nothing, looking lost in the memories of a past that Tooru has only skimmed the surface of.

He doesn’t wonder how it happened. 

It always ends the same way. 

Their hometown’s population had been decimated within the first few days. 

In the chaos of it all, Tooru had been separated from everyone but Iwa-chan. He won’t be able to explain how. It’s hard to get a clear recollection of those days. When he tries, all he could truly remember is the tight grip of his best friend’s fingers over his own and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he can’t let go. 

At the back of his mind, he knows that the possibility that everyone he cared about had all survived somehow and were just waiting to be reunited with him somewhere is slim to none. If he thought about it with even just a slightest bit of logic, he knows they’re all probably already dead. 

He hopes sometimes, though, when the silence closes in all around him and bears down on his shoulders like a weight he can’t carry, he hopes that his parents are still out there somewhere. That his sister hadn’t been separated from her son, that Takeru can still get a chance to grow up, even though it’s not the most ideal world to be growing up in. That he’ll cross paths with Makki and Mattsun again, and he can lord over them the fact that _he was right, look at all those aliens_ because if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that you take whatever victories you can, however small it may seem. 

Then he shakes his head because there’s no use torturing himself with fantasies. 

But then, another day will stretch out before him in endless quiet, and he’ll find himself hoping all over again.

When he settles himself beside the other boy, he asks himself, which of them has it worse? 

On the one hand, Tooru will forever be stuck in the vicious cycle of hope and disappointment and never knowing for sure. On the other, Suga-chan will forever have to live with the certainty that someone he cared about was gone. 

Between the both of them, who had fate been kinder to?

But maybe that’s the wrong question to ask, because no amount of kindness could have survived in this world.

And yet, somehow, Tooru knows kindness, still. He’d forgotten it once, for a while, but this boy. 

This boy barreled his way into Tooru’s life and forcefully opened the eyes he’d wanted to shut tight to protect himself. Taught him that maybe sometimes, kindness can be a tough question of who had it better, in a world where better didn’t mean much more than good, and good didn’t mean much at all. 

And sometimes, it’s as simple as sturdy chest in a ratty t-shirt, a soothing hand in your hair, a safe place to cry.

So, without looking at him, staring out at the same bleak vision he’s not really seeing, Tooru wraps an arm around Suga-chan’s shoulders, settles a hand on top of his head and then gently guides him down to rest on Tooru’s shoulder. 

Suga-chan blinks up at him with eyes slashed with anguish and Tooru smiles, direct and straightforward like he had been, and brings an index finger in front of his mouth.

If he recognizes it, Suga-chan doesn’t show it. Instead, he just presses his forehead hard against Tooru’s shoulder in response, shudders once and then falls still.

There are no tears.

But even then, Tooru knows that Suga is crying.

  


* * *

  


When they head out in search for supplies next, Tooru makes a big deal about going the opposite direction from the store with the bicycle. He makes up stupid reasons they probably don’t even understand because Manager-chan looks as unimpressed by his general existence as ever - which still hasn’t stopped being insulting, by the way.

Tooru gets his way, of course, even though he strongly suspects they all know the real reason why.

Suga-chan just doesn’t mention it.

And Tooru doesn’t expect a thank you.

  


* * *

  


Iwa-chan’s foot injury is nothing short of a miracle.

Even lacking proper medical supplies, or trained medical care, it heals without any visible complications, if not prettily. 

When Iwa-chan first tests out his newly-healed, ruggedly-scarred foot, Suga-chan and Manager-chan spend the rest of the day teaching them both how to walk weird like them. It’s awkward but it works, and when Tooru masters short sprints in the exact same way, he feels briefly victorious, before thinking that it might not be the most flattering of positions. 

This gets compounded by the fact that the other three menaces in Tooru’s life are all standing to the side, sporting innocent looks that totally give away the fact that they’re all laughing at Tooru at the inside. 

He starts pointing at them thunderously and then... points again but with considerably more irritation.

Suga-chan is the first to give, turning away with shaking shoulders and when Tooru marches to him to teach him a little lesson about _respect,_ he looks up and.

His eyes are laughing.

It’s the first time since the bike that Suga-chan’s eyes have laughed like that and so, even if it was at his expense, Tooru finds that he doesn’t really care.

  


* * *

  


That night, Suga-chan and Manager-chan manage to explain, stiltedly, that before they found each other, the two had been headed to the ocean. They want to keep moving towards it now. They can’t properly explain why but it doesn’t matter, either way.

Tooru and Iwa-chan don’t even have to take long to consider it.

They’re all moving forward together.

  


* * *

  


The rain comes unexpectedly, as it always does, pouring in deafening torrents outside this little place that had been their haven.

Tooru observes the downpour and determines that there won’t be any moving going on today. 

Suga-chan and Manager-chan have an intense staredown about it, that Suga-chan seems to win with no explanations, which makes Manager-chan smile at him knowingly, before retreating back into the store with Iwa-chan. 

Tooru moves to follow them, trying to stay true to his role of unpleasant third wheel, but Suga-chan gestures him toward the door and the crash of thunder and rain pounding furiously into the pavement. 

Tooru hesitates. He still remembers the days before the alien creatures understood that precipitation was just another natural process in the new world they’re inhabiting, when he spent rainy days like this one curled up by a window, obsessively still, as shadows darted around the streets outside, too fast to really see, black angels of death descended from the heavens. 

If Tooru were to analyze them against every other alien in every movie he’s consumed, he’d say they’re not terribly smart creatures. But they do learn. Eventually, their agitation at the rain fades, and days like this become safe once again. 

Or as safe as it can be, at least. 

Old habits are pretty hard to break, though, especially when they’re concerning survival.

But Suga-chan is smiling at him encouragingly, so he goes. When he settles himself against the wall, Suga-chan takes his hand between his own gently. 

And then, without preamble or a signal or any kind of warning-

He _speaks._

“Oikawa-san.” A soft, mellow voice, barely above a whisper. “I’m really glad that we met you.”

Tooru doesn’t think. He snatches his hand away from the other boy’s hold and in his frenzy, bangs his fist against the side of the wall. 

Tooru stares at it wildly, disbelievingly, his heart pounding so loudly against his chest, he can hear it filling his entire body, beating furiously against his skull, his hands, his feet, his body warming with the need to flee, his breath coming in harsh pants.

A shadow flickers from beyond the curtain of rain and Tooru stumbles back. Is it them? Are they coming? How much further until they’re here? How many of then did he attract? Two? Three? An entire pack?

_Tooru can’t outrun them all._

A gentle touch to his shoulder makes him flinch, and then cuts through his panicked train of thought. He finally sees that Suga-chan is still wearing his smile, while the rain continues undisturbed outside. 

Tooru stares out the doorway a few more seconds. A few more minutes. 

Nothing comes.

It’s been the one true tenet of Tooru’s life since the aliens fell on earth. The knowledge that kept him and Iwa-chan safe. These creatures hunt by listening for prey. If you never make a sound, then you will never be prey. Then you will survive. 

And yet-

And yet-

“The rain is noisier than us,” Suga-chan explains, quiet and patient and calm. “As long as something is noisier than you, it’s okay. It’s safe. That’s why...”

That’s why they were going to the ocean, his mind finishes. 

Tooru thinks of the crash of the waves against the shore, masking their trail, hiding them from their predators in plain sight. He thinks of a day when he doesn’t have to walk through the world like everything was a threat, a day when he doesn’t have to act like the world is made of glass, a day when he can feel just little bit human again. 

It’s not foolproof, he can see it in Suga-chan’s eyes, the warning against hoping too much. He doesn’t even know how they came about to realize this. It doesn’t feel like something he would want to know. But-

But it could be a start.

Suga-chan’s smile widens at what he sees in Tooru’s face, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Would you like to try?”

Tooru feels the burden from silence again, but this time it’s because of words long held-back, of all the things he’s wanted to say since speaking became a deterrent to staying alive. 

All the things he’s wanted to say since Manager-chan and Suga came to save their lives. 

_Thank you_ and _I’m sorry_ and _don’t think this means I’ll hold back on you after this_ if there ever was an after, and more still, so many words, too much, all pressing against his sealed lips, waiting to be said.

He looks at Suga, patiently waiting out his struggle, understanding without words like always, the embrace of sun and rain casting prisms all over his face - a halo and then not, an angel and then not, a rival and then not, just another boy-

And then not. 

The words come to him them, simple and easy, words that may mean less and yet more than everything he’d wanted to say all together. 

He reaches out to tuck back a stray silvery strand of hair, darkened to a deeper gray now from all the dirt and grime of everyday life, long and tangled, falling in a riot of curls all over Suga’s face. Messy. Rumpled. Disheveled.

And yet, “You’re beautiful.”

They’re the first words he’s said in months, and he beholds the joy it brings with awe, breaking like the dawn on this precious boy’s precious face - a natural kind of happiness, a pure kind of light.

Suga smiles at him with the blaze of a million stars shining in his eyes and maybe it sounds shallow or superficial or silly. 

Tooru doesn’t regret a single word.

**Author's Note:**

> \- If you have any questions about the monsters in this universe, or the premise of the movie in general, my answer is I don't know. I actually only watched the trailer OTL The only things I _do_ know are what I was able to bug off the friends who did watch the film and those are a) that they're aliens and b) it's okay to make a sound as long as there's something else making a louder sound than you nearby. I know it sounds kind of stupid to be making a fic about a movie I haven't watched but the trailer stuck to me and then wouldn't let go  >.<
> 
> \- I!! LOVE!!! HINATA!!! I'm so sorry I killed him off, I really love him, honest, please don't feed me to the wolves TT^TT
> 
> \- I read somewhere that the Japanese believe that writing the character for man/person in your palm three times and then swallowing it will get rid of your nerves, and that was why I made it so Oikawa's first instinct when Suga wrote on his palm was to swallow... Suga ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> \- A sneak peak into the rumandraisins special of The Glamorous Writing Life, A True Story S3 -
> 
> Me: -sets out to write a hopefully tension-filled semi-horror fic set in a post apocalyptic landscape where making a sound can literally kill you-
> 
> Fic: -rapidly devolves into a sort of hurt/comfort fluff fest where every scene documents Oikawa's developing relationship with Suga in a post apocalyptic landscape with a bonus vague kind of found family atmosphere-
> 
> Me: -throws hands up in air- Where did I go wrong??? TT^TT 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


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